


Water Lilies

by snowpuppies



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: AU, Angst, F/F, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-04
Updated: 2009-04-04
Packaged: 2017-10-02 07:05:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowpuppies/pseuds/snowpuppies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Together, Willow and Tara are more than the sum of their parts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Water Lilies

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by Gabrielle's fic, [What Price Glory?](http://velvetwhip.livejournal.com/710672.html), which asked what would happen if Willow were the one brain-sucked by Glory, instead of Tara.
> 
>  
> 
> Beta'd by [Kitty Poker](http://kitty-poker1.livejournal.com/).

  


 

  
Tara isn't the big gun.

She isn't strong and powerful and smart like Willow; she's just Tara.

Just a girl who's hurt and angry and terrified that she'll make a mistake and her Willow will be lost forever…

She's just a girl in love.

 

And love is stronger than fear—she learned that from Willow, from Buffy, from Xander and Anya and Dawn—and now it's her turn to be brave, because her brave, smart Willow's mind is hanging in the balance…

So she takes a breath, and sinks her fingers into Glory's brain…

 

And screams.

 

***

 

Giles' knees buckle when he sees his Slayer: an angel, soft and beautiful and broken, lying among garbage and debris.

He reaches to push a tendril of golden hair from her face when he's interrupted by voices. Turning, he sees Willow and Tara crouched against what's left of the tower; he's grown used to Willow's childish cries and screams over the past few weeks, but now her voice is joined by another—her lover's cries mingle with her own, echoing in the stillness.

He curses under his breath; one dead Slayer and two powerful witches turned to infants trapped in adult bodies.

For once, there's no explanation, no reason, no rhyme, no ancient tome that will have the final piece of the puzzle that will make the world right again.

 

The world will never be right again.

 

***

 

_"Willow?"_

_"Tara, is that you?"_

_"It's me."_

_"I—I missed you so much. I've been so lost in here, and it's dark—why is it so dark?—and I couldn’t find you and I couldn't find Buffy or Xander or Giles and I'm so glad you're here. I knew you would come. I knew you would find me."_

_"Of course I came for my girl."_

_"You're so brave."_

_"I was thinking of what you'd do, but..."_

_"What's wrong, Baby?"_

_"I'm not as strong as you, Willow."_

_"Oh, Tara—"_

_"No, sweetie. You don't understand…I…I can't find my way back."_

 

***

 

Xander grunts as he hauls the frame into place, shooting a series of nails into the wood to hold it steady.

Construction's not the most glamorous of jobs, but most days it keeps the thoughts at bay, not to mention the oh-so-important side-effect of putting Kung Pao chicken and deep-dish pepperoni on his table.

But other days…

 

…well, he's lucky not to shoot a nail through his thumb.

 

He doesn't hear from Giles any more, and Dawn writes from Juvie when she can get paper, and Anya...well, he hasn't heard from her since L.A., and that's…something he doesn't think about.

He doesn't think about a lot of stuff.

Except when he does.

 

He doesn’t think about Buffy, rotting six feet under the ground, or Dawn, in and out of Juvenile Detention for a series of petty thefts that's slowly become not-so-petty, or Buffy's mom—Joyce—who was always so nice to him and made him a sandwich every time he came over because he "looked so hungry", and he certainly doesn't think about Willow, his Willow, mindless and frightened and vulnerable in the nursing facility where she and her lover will spend the rest of their lives, because thinking is the way of badness.

Thinking makes him want to give up.

 

Willow never gave up.

Buffy never gave up.

Jesse never gave up.

Hell, even Cordy, Miss Most-likely-to-run-to-daddy-when-the-world-goes-to-hell, never gave up.

 

So he won't, either.

 

He goes to work. He eats and sleeps—alone—and watches re-runs and then goes to work again.

 

It's pathetic, but it's his life and he lives it, because they can't.

 

Of all the thoughts he doesn't want to think, this one haunts him the most.

 

***

 

_"Oh."_

_"I—I'm so sorry, Willow."_

_"Oh, don't cry, Baby."_

_"I m-meant to save you, b-but I messed up…and now we're trapped, lost in the dark and I don't know if we'll ever go home."_

_"Yeah, we're trapped, a-and it's pitch-dark and kinda more than a little scary, but I'm not lost."_

_"Willow?"_

_"I'm with you, silly."_

_"Willow, I'm not joking."_

_"I'm not, either. When I'm with you…I could never be lost."_

 

***

 

"Hey guys," Dawn says, plopping into a chair next to Tara's easel.

It's art day, and that means finger painting, although Willow's painted more of her face than the paper.

Tara's easel is covered in green.

"Sorry I haven't been here lately, but I brought you something—ice cream!" She pulls two fudgesicles from an insulated pouch and opens them. Willow leans forward, paint-covered hand extended—and grunts impatiently.

Dawn smiles. "Hold on. I've got to take the stick out first." She removes the stick from the ice cream and hands Willow the package, then does the same for Tara. It's messy that way, but she learned her lesson when Tara nearly put an orderly's eye out one afternoon.

And she doesn't mind the mess.

She watches as they slurp away at the treat, sniffling and wiping her eyes. She knows they don't see her, not really—she's just something that glows, pretty and green—but sometimes, Tara will sit in her lap while Willow cuddles close to her side, and their arms are warm and soft and, for a moment, she feels like she's home.

So she comes, every other week—when she's not…_detained_—and she pretends that they still remember her name.

Smiling, she pulls a napkin from her bag and wipes a brown smear from Tara's cheek.

 

It's not much, but they're _family_.

 

***

 

_"Do you think we'll ever find our way out?"_

_"Hey, who could stop the two of us when we're together?"_

_"Neither man nor beast."_

_"Nor skanky med-student-turned-hell-gods?"_

_"Not even those."_

_"We'll be ok, Tara. We just have to—"_

_"Willow?"_

_"Huh?"_

_"Do you see that?"_

_"Yeah. It's…"_

_"Pretty."_

_"Actually, I was going to go with green, but it's pretty, too."_

_"Do you think…?"_

_"Yeah."_

_"Should we…?"_

_"Uh huh."_

_"Come on, Tara. Let's go home."  
_

 

 

_FIN_.

 

  
* **About the title:**  
French children are told a story in which they imagine having a pond with water lily leaves floating on the surface. The lily population doubles in size every day and if left unchecked will smother the pond in 30 days, killing all the other living things in the water. Day after day the plant seems small and so it is decided to leave it to grow until it half-covers the pond, before cutting it back. They are then asked, on what day that will occur. This is revealed to be the 29th day, and then there will be just one day to save the pond. 

 

Originally archived [here](http://snowpuppies.livejournal.com/197212.html).


End file.
